


The boy who lived becomes the man who lives.

by AnythingElse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Anonymity, Character Development, Draco is not an asshole, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Friends to Lovers, Good Draco Malfoy, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry is not an idiot, Harry likes muggle things, Harry potter is not ok, He realizes he was abused, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Slow Build, Slow Burn, anymore, it's just a realistic beginning, this will have a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:23:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnythingElse/pseuds/AnythingElse
Summary: The war has ended and Harry is ready to follow his dreams. Only reality is a *bitch* and turns out it's near-impossible to get a government position without having finished basic education. Harry is now in the real world, facing the harsh realities of being used by the people he trusted , with impossibly high expectations from 'The Boy Who Lived'. Harry is now trying to pick himself back up, learn all the magic he never had the opportunity to before, and move forward from the past.It's a little fun, a little angsty, but it will all be wrapped up in a happy little bow at the end.I really wanted a FF that deals with how Harry deals with with all the post-war problems and grows up and learns. I enjoy fan fiction that has happy endings, but I think the character has to grow in order for it to be meaningful. ....and I dare hope that is what I have written here.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The names given-- Nikto and Niemand-- are just a little language joke I was trying to make. Both translate to 'nobody' because they are trying to stay as anonymous as possible.

Harry isn't sure when, exactly, he'd realized it. One thing was certain though; there was no going back. He was an idiot. A lucky idiot, sure, but his luck had ended with the war.

 

Perhaps it's necessary to go back a little further.

 

The war was over and Voldemort was dead. Things could only get better from there, right? Wrong, apparently. Harry tried to apply for an auror position within the ministry only to be rejected for meeting exactly 0 of the requirements. 

 

Shacklebolt, taking pity on him, allowed him to take the practical exam in lieu of the paper requirements. 

 

He failed. Spectacularly.

 

His in-depth knowledge of approximately 22 spells and 3 potions did little when it came to non-espionage and non-combatant situations.

 

The knowledge had hit him like a bludger-- he had hardly passed a class without copying Hermione. He had lucked out in battles against murderous death eaters by stunning and/or disarming them. Even defeating Voldemort on the few occasions had been out-of-his-control wand lore and loyalty rather than skill. 

 

Harry had spent some time after that wallowing. His grand plans of fighting evil-doers and making the world a better place had hit a dead end. He thought about asking Hermione to tutor him, but he knew he didn't learn well in class. He was a  _ doer.  _ He thought back to his DA classes-- he needed a room of requirement. And a hands-on tutor. 

 

Carefully, Harry made a plan. He researched and located a similar set-up to the room of requirement. After some anonymous exchanges and an ostentatious amount of money, he had purchased sole use of the room for the foreseeable future.

 

He cooked up a few batches of one of his few mastered potions & stole some hairs from an unsuspecting muggle at a bus stop. Transforming into his alias, he took a trip out to the location. It was a beautiful but understated farm out in the middle of nowhere.

 

He approached the old barn and carefully gathered his thoughts.  _ I need a place to safely and anonymously learn magic and potions. There needs to be a way for two separate people to arrive, undetected.  _ He was concentrating so hard that he almost missed the familiar glimmer around the edges of the doors. Curious, he pulled open the door. 

 

This was a scam. Obviously. No other answer.

 

There, in a musty  _ barn _ was simply a table. Harry, never one to deny curiosity, walked over to it. It shimmered momentarily before a ring, a letter, and….a gun? Appeared. He took the letter first, his frown deepening as he read the riddle presented. This was as cryptic as that damn sorting hat.

 

**_A simple recipe, really._ **

**_Borrowed from muggle memories,_ **

**_Thus unpredictable._ **

**_One ring to deceive them all,_ **

**_While thinking with portals_ **

**_Will allow both entry and exit._ **

**_Simply think of home_ **

**_And pull the trigger._ **

 

Ok, it wasn't that complicated. The ring would provide disguise of some sort and the gun acts as a portal gun. This could he fun!

 

Movement caught his eye as he noticed the parchment erase itself and start a new message. A brief memory of Mr. Weasley's warning snaked through his head “Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.”

 

**_You have not yet asked,_ **

**_So you cannot receive._ **

**_Someone to help, to teach,_ **

**_It has been agreed._ **

 

A sealed envelope materialized on the table along with a small wrapped package.

 

**_Treasures similar,_ **

**_But different._ **

**_Your request, written._ **

**_Simply wish it to be_ **

**_To ensure delivery._ **

 

Harry is almost glad the room of requirement at Hogwarts couldn't communicate. He's getting a headache. He briefly concentrates on the request being sent and they disappear. 

_ Can I see what the room will look like?  _ He asks.

 

**_That will be decided by your teacher._ **

 

Harry feels a little guilty that the room must have heard his thought whining about the riddles.  _ Thanks?  _ He says as he takes the ring and gun. He doesn't like the idea of toting around a weapon, so he visualizes a muggle ENDS device, trying to show the room his idea. He feels something akin to a chuckle as the gun shimmers and transforms into a sleek silver vaping device.

  
Thinking of home, he takes a pull on the device and blows out. An orange tinged portal opens, showing his living room on the other side.  _ Mmm, watermelon _ , is his last thought as he steps through the doorway. 


	2. Chapter Two

The ring is, by far, the most incredible thing Harry has ever seen. He doesn't know if there's a limit to the disguises, but he has slipped it on his finger 3 different times now. Each time, he felt the cold head-to-toe trickle sensation very similar to Polyjuice, and ended up as a new person. 

 

The wait, however, may just be the death of him. Since coming up with the plan, Harry had been working day in and day out researching locations, brewing Polyjuice, and making lists of things he remembers from the Auror tests that he was not able to do. He has been purchasing books on theories he wants to put into practice as well.

 

The one thing The Barn had taken control of unexpectedly was finding him the right tutor. That was unexpected but probably also for the best. Harry had spent some time skimming through available tutors and there was an overwhelming amount. He was originally planning on interviewing each one individually to test their compatibility. Now, he simply gets to wait while The Barn does the work. 

 

It's two weeks after his initial visit that the letter appears. The envelope is unmarked and the writing is, undoubtedly, The Barn's. His new tutor has made necessary preparations and requesting their first meeting tomorrow morning. The letter also states there is no need for a reply. 

 

Finally! Harry gets to move forward. For years, everyone had put him on such a pedestal, singing his praises and acting like he was so clever and powerful. It made it so difficult, especially after the war, to make people listen. He never had the opportunity to finish his schooling. He always struggled with the practical implications of spells, and only knows the ones he’s famous for (like the patronus) because it was  _ literally necessary to stay alive.  _ So many people think because he defeated Voldemort as a child, he is some sort of prodigy. What he wouldn’t give to simply tell them--- it was a damn prophecy! And what shielded him was ancient magic, his mother’s sacrifice. At the end of the day, he’s still just a kid trapped in an adult’s world.

 

Harry shakes his head vigorously and goes back to his list of requests for his tutor.

 

**1) Silent casting**

**2) Non-combatant spells**

**3) Everyday charms**

**4) Spell potency**

**5) Spell Theory/ understanding the foundations**

**6) Practical application of spell theory & manipulations**

**7) GWT passing the GWT with Outstanding marks**

 

The GWT should probably not be number 7 on his list. Equivalent to the muggle GED, passing the General Wizarding Tests will put him equivalent with graduating a standard wizarding school. The thought train, however, derails abruptly as he feels a familiar anger bubble up inside of him. He feels so  _ cheated _ . How  _ DARE  _ Dumbledore use him for years on end. No matter how many times Harry thinks about it, Dumbledore did not know Harry would survive after allowing himself to be killed. No, Harry was a tool, and nothing more. Since day one, he was simply another tool to be used and tossed away at the end of the day.

 

First year, Dumbledore  _ knew _ that harry was going to find the mirror. He even gave him the invisibility cloak! Never once did he think to give Harry information. Training. His own tools to use in the battles. No, instead Dumbledore set up a convoluted series of hints and events that always led an unsuspecting Harry right into damning situations that, more often than not, should have left him dead. But, not during  _ any _ of it, did Dumbledore actually take the time to try and train Harry. He never once set up extra classes or even a tutor to make up for the classes missed, lessons never taken, skills never learned. No, no matter how one looks at it, Dumbledore saw Harry as a means to an end. The fact that both Harry and Dumbledore would find their ends there, too, was obviously of no bother to the old wizard.

 

“Deep breaths, Harry. Let it go, please. Move the fuck on already” Harry mumbled to himself. It was a losing battle with himself, thinking back on these things. The facts were indisputable and it was up to Harry how he wanted to spend his time. He could dwell and wallow, which he’s done quite a bit of. Or he can make the effort to finally move on, which is what he’s doing now. Moving. On. 

 

“Sir?” A low, raspy voice breaks into Harry’s swirling thoughts. He looks up to see Kreacher looking at him with a half fond/ half annoyed expression. He’s holding out a platter with a cup of tea and a sandwich. 

 

“Thanks, Kreacher. I appreciate it.” The house elf bows and disappears. Deciding to take a break from his thoughts for the night, Harry flops on his couch and turns on one of his (many) muggle guilty-pleasures- Netflix. Wanting something lighthearted, he picks FRIENDS and settles in for the evening. 


	3. Chapter Three

 

Harry takes a pull on his vape and releases it in a huff while thinking of The Barn. As he steps through the portal, he wonders who is waiting for him on the other side. Brushing dark, wavy hair out of his eyes, he remembers that he won’t know them even after meeting them. The whole anominity thing was his idea in the first place. 

 

The space Harry steps into is completely unrecognizable. There are bookshelves lining every wall, and books scattered about everywhere. A small potions lab fills the back corner of the building with cauldrons, cutting boards, burners, and plenty of ingredients. The other end of the building hosts practice dummys, miscellaneous trinkets and items, and a variety of  parchments laid out at different stations. Here, in the center, is a round table with solid chairs on opposite sides. A soft glow fills the whole building and brightens a bit as he approaches the table. Sitting in the opposite chair is a kind looking older gentleman. 

 

“Hi, I’m….Nikto.” Harry introduces himself. The other stands and gives him a once-over. 

 

With a chuckle, he responds. “Hello, nobody. If that’s the game we’re playing, you can call me  Niemand . I’m gonna skip right past all the other pleasantries, though, and get right to things. Have a seat.” Harry sits obediently and awaits further instruction. A quill and a test of some sort materialize in front of him. “So today, you are the one teaching  _ me. _ Think of this as a placement test of sorts. Answer as honestly and thoroughly as possible. That’s the extent of today’s ‘lesson’, and it will help eliminate any redundancies in the curriculum. I’ll be here for the duration, however, so don’t worry if you have questions on any of it.”

 

Harry is completely flabbergasted. This isn’t at all what he expected. People usually tell him how he must ‘already know all of this’ and ‘you should be teaching us!’. Even with the faux identities, he expected personal questions and awkward conversations. Niemand, harry chuckles at the name given, seems like he isn’t going to bother with any of the pretenses. It is, quite frankly, a breath of fresh air. He gives the test a once-over before beginning. It’s very simple and straightforward. For the most part, it’s a list of spells-- circle the ones you have learned. There is a section on potions as well, and then some practical questions on the final page. Harry gets to it, happy that he is able to circle more than he expected. 

 

About halfway through the spells checklist, he feels an unpleasant pang of sadness. The patronus. He isn’t sure what to put, so after deliberating for a moment he simple puts a mark next to it and writes ‘used to be able to case a full-fledged patronus. It’s been 2 years.’ He wonders if it hints at his identity, but realizes the war affected thousands of people not just the ones he knows. After bumbling through the practical questions at the end, he grimaces and hands the test over to Niemand. It’s been less than three hours, but Harry feels exhausted. 

 

“Ok, I’ll go through this and write up a syllabus based on improving your current skills and filling in the gaps. We’ll meet again, same time, on Monday.” With a curt nod, the other man draws a circle in the air with a magic marker of sorts. He steps through the circle and disappears completely. Harry lounges for a moment, not really wanting to go home, and then pulls out his own portal maker.

 

Once home, it is immediately obvious that Harry is a ball of nervous energy. Grabbing his broom, he quickly slips his ring on-and-off. Not even checking his new identity, he quickly visualizes the quaint little quidditch pitch he had found while on the run during 7th year. It was protected by dozens of anti-muggle spells and obviously built for neighborhood pickup games. Harry hadn’t ever been able to go back, seeing as he didn’t know where they were when he’d found it. Since the portals were based on pure visualization, he had been looking forward to the chance to visit. 


	4. Chapter Four

As much as Harry was praising the ring earlier, he is now cursing it. Long hair cascading over his back keeps whipping around in the wind into his eyes and mouth. More than once, it has also gotten stuck in his glasses frames. Also, the new anatomy was throwing him off something wicked. Trying to be un-obvious and unobtrusive, he skulked next to some bleachers trying to conjure a hair tie. Transfiguration would have been much easier, but Harry was  _ sick and tired _ of always taking the shortcut and thus never bothering to learn anything new.

 

“Ligamente” harry mutters, and nothing happens. He wonders if he’s approaching this the wrong way. He tries one more time, and feels a weird shuddering sensation but, again, nothing happens. “Damnit! I just want a fucking hair tie! C’mon.” Before he can fruitlessly try again, he hears someone behind him. Heart pounding, he whips around with his wand drawn and a disarming charm on his lips. The sight of Draco Malfoy does nothing to ease his tension, despite his hands up in a universal ‘I’m unarmed’ signal. Finally remembering that he is disguised as an unknown female and wants to remain anonymous, Harry lowers his wand and mutters an apology.

 

“No problem, I’m sorry to have surprised you.” Malfoy smiles, genuinely, and Harry is taken aback. “I just was going to see if I could help you with your conjuring. What were you trying to make?” 

 

Harry isn’t sure if his voice is his own or not, having only ever said three words while in disguise. He knows that Malfoy will recognize him immediately if it’s normal. Pitching it and embracing awkward, he gestures wildly at his hair and says “Hair tie?” The sound is like nails on a chalkboard and Harry visibly flinches. Malfoy keeps his smile, but Harry sees his face wince at the shrill shriek. He awkwardly clears his throat and tries again. “Sorry! Don’t know what just happened to my throat! I was trying to make a hair tie to tame this damn mess.” 

 

Malfoy laughs, his eyes crinkling with the action. “Ah! So you were trying to cast bindings instead of a tie-- it was actually a really strong spell, so you should be proud of that! But for a hair tie, you should try  _ redimiculum _ with the same wand movement. 

 

Harry smiles (or, more likely, grimaces) and says the new incantation. A ribbon materializes and he lets out a triumphant yell. A real smile sneaks onto his face as he turns to thank Malfoy. The other nods and takes his leave. The whole exchange has been surreal, so Harry carefully files it away in the ‘stress about later or maybe never’ pile. (There’s a lot of things he’s been putting there lately. It may be time to invest in a pensieve. 

 

Finally hitting the Quidditch pitch, Harry ends up in a game of 3-on-3 and he is teamed with Malfoy. They each play with 2 on field and one goalkeeper. The only ball released is the quaffle, and Harry finds the change of pace to be absolutely refreshing. He was always on the outskirts of the action (or, y’know, being chased by dementors/cursed bludgers/assholes), so it’s rather fun being involved with the other players. Before he realizes it, the sun is going down and the players call it a game. They all land together, laugh, and shake hands. It’s so genial and peaceful, Harry wishes he could simply stay here forever. 

 

Peaceful moments, however, can never last forever when Harry Potter is involved. It’s only been four hours since the game and now Harry is standing face to face with Voldemort. The Dursleys are off to the side, jeering and egging on the Dark Lord. Voldemort is sneering at Harry who, coincidentally, is 11 years old and terrified beyond coherent action. Harry  _ knows _ he can fight him but is, quite literally, scared stiff. Those same two words and flash of green light that have been haunting him since childhood, and Harry awakens with a start.

 

A hot shower never really works to wash away the cold sweats. Harry still tries every time. After drying off, Harry pulls on jeans and a tee and stumbles into the living room of his flat. There is a cup of chamomile tea and a vial of dreamless sleep potion. With a small smile, Harry takes the tea but leaves the potion.

 

It isn't a well thought out plan, but Harry can rarely be accused of thinking things through thoroughly. He slips on the ring, pictures the barn, and steps into the soft glow on the other side. His needs have, apparently, taken over The Barn's decor and contents. The library is still in place, but the table has been replaced with a plush couch adorned with a soft looking blanket.

 

There is a small side table, set with a coaster and a leather bound book. Harry places his half empty teacup on the coaster and settles into the couch. Picking up the worn-looking book, Harry leafs through it. It's a practical-applications study guide. It delves into the basics of spell categories and base-word manipulation. This is the sort of book Harry has been looking for and hoping existed. 

 

It's past 2 A.M. when Harry realizes he has read the same sentence on revealing spells 5 times. Putting down the book, hey lays back and closes his eyes. He would go home, but he expects to be awake again in an hour or two with another nightmare.

 

“Hey.” Harry hears a soft voice, but since it's not Kreacher, he knows it's part of a dream. “Hey, you awake?” Something touches Harry's shoulder and he's on his feet standing over a stunned body looking up with wide eyes. It's hard to think over the pounding of his adrenaline, but Harry quickly remembers where he is. 

 

“Oh, shit, oh shit!  _ Rennervate. _ I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.” Harry pulls into himself as he crouches on the ground. He can hear the other;  Niemand, he supposes, pulling himself up off the floor. Harry refuses to make eye contact, dreading the response his new tutor will have for him. Trying (and failing) to come up with the right response, Harry is stunned into looking up when he hears  _ laughter. _

 

“Well, I guess you weren't lying on the test! Your defense skills-- and reflexes-- are the best I've ever seen! Just one question though.” Harry still isn't sure if his voice will work, so he raises his brows in question. “I thought you said you couldn't do wordless casts?”

 

“Er” is all that comes out.  _ Wordless casts?  _ Definitely not a skill Harry possesses. He is very sure of that.

 

“Ah, I get it. Reflex only skill, then? That's pretty impressive nonetheless. We've definitely got some raw skills to work with. That makes my job easier!” Niemand claps his hands excitedly before walking over to a table that had not been there the previous night. 

 

Harry feels a little faint, but pushes the feeling aside. While the enthusiasm is a little overwhelming, Harry is hopeful that maybe tutoring can begin earlier than planned. As he stands to approach Niemand, a fog edges into his line of sight. Blinking doesn't seem to make it any better. After a single step, Harry suddenly notices the barnwood floor rushing up to meet him. Harry is surprised by it's softness and he smiles as he passes out. 


	5. Chapter Five

Harry wakes up to the sudden lack of pain and discomfort. There is a weird, warm feeling flowing through his body and he feels  _ great _ . He isn't sure where he is, but there is sun streaming in through a large window. There is a gorgeous girl with honey colored skin sprawled out on the window-seat. Seeing him awake, she greets him with a soft, breathy voice. 

 

It only takes a moment for the angel to start scolding Harry and break the illusion. After ensuring he is feeling better, she gets right to the point. “As your  _ tutor _ ” she snarls the word a bit, “I think I should probably educate you on a very important life-lesson you seem to have missed out on.” She pauses and waits for eye contact. “Humans. Need. Food. To. Survive.” Harry flinches but doesn't say anything. 

 

“I ran a full health scan on you.” Harry can feel his heart rate speed up, his breath quickens, and he starts to feel nauseous. “I'm gonna ask you one question, and I need an honest answer. We're not moving forward with lessons without an answer. I have a handy little charm to detect lies, so don't bother.” 

 

She stares intently at Harry, and it's almost like she's  _ trying _ to send him over the edge into a panic attack. “How much of the damage to your body is self-inflicted?” The question is totally unexpected, and pulls Harry back from the brink. He frowns, wondering if he misheard. 

 

“Huh? None. What are you talking about?”

 

The girl looks skeptical and taps at a small device sitting by her. Satisfied with what she sees, she clasps her hands and levels him with a look. “Ok, kid, let's say I believe you. But that just opens a whole new can of worms neither of us signed up for.” She pauses, but Harry can tell she's going to continue anyways. “You are malnourished, they are all disguised but you have scars all over your body, most of your bones show signs of breakage and a few were not properly healed, there are traces of unforgivable curses all around you and your depression levels are almost debilitating.”

 

“Oh! Is that all?” Harry doesn't mean to be sarcastic or condescending in the least-- he is genuinely relieved! The look she gives him quickly sends him into a frantic & reassuring explanation. “Look, I forget to eat a lot. It's worse when I'm not home. Not intentional though. The bones were mostly from quidditch back in the day. The scars are from the war and, if we're being honest, so is the depression. I genuinely want to live my life to the fullest and that's why I'm trying to get my skills up to par.” 

 

The explanation is rushed, but Harry hopes it covered the bases. He waits, but her expression doesn't falter . “Ok…”  She frowns and sighs. “Ok. I gave you a recovery potion, but you still need food.” She sweeps her arm and food fills the table. Harry is reminded of Hogwarts and feels bittersweet at the memory. The portions are small but varied. “Here’s the deal. You eat, and I get to ask you questions. First things first,” she pauses and sweeps her hand over the small device. He now sees that it’s glowing with a soft light. “The only full truth you just told me is that nothing was self-inflicted. Every other word you said was a half truth. I don’t know who you are, and I can promise you, I don’t actually care. But if we’re going to work together, if I’m going to help you, I need to understand you. So, the deal is, you are going to eat, I’m going to ask questions, and you’re going to answer them. Just so we don’t have to argue over what’s true or not, I revealed the detector for you.”

 

She is looking at him expectantly but Harry doesn’t have a clue how to respond or what to say. So he nods his acquiescence and serves up some toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs. After his first bite, his eyes flutter shut and a moan slips past his lips.  _ Damn, this is good.  _ He really needs to get Kreacher some cookbooks. She stifles a smile and the inquisition starts. 

 

“Ok, an easy one to start with. What’s your favorite color?”

 

“Red” Harry answers easily, seeing the glow turn green. Then it slips to orange as Harry feels a very familiar sinking sensation in his gut. His mind flashes back to the battle. Blood pooling on the ground, dust filling the air, wails of utter heartbreak echoing through the halls. George, missing a chunk of his head, blood spilling out everywhere. Malfoy, just a scared kid caught up in a bad situation, slices of red across his chest-- put there by Harry himself. The glowing light has turned to red by the time Harry snaps back to the present. He feels sick to his stomach and his breath is coming in small pants. “Green. I think green is nice color.” Niemand does him the favour of not voicing the question written all over her face. 

 

“And I thought we started with the easy question. This is not gonna be easy. You sure you can do this?”

 

Harry nods. “Weirdly, I think it may be good to talk about some of this. Say it out loud to leave it in the past. Move forward.” He pauses then looks her in the eyes. “Thank you. I know none of this was in the contract, and you don’t have to deal with my shit. Thank you for the food, for caring, and for being willing to tutor me.” Niemand doesn’t respond directly, but she gives him a soft smile. 

 

“So, a more complicated question now. The food thing? I know you can afford to eat-- you’re obviously paying for The Barn and you hired me. How’d things get to this point?”

 

Harry is relieved. This girl must have a very different perspective on things. This is the most simple question he’s received so far. “Simple, really. As a kid I never really had much to eat. Later in life, I only ever had much to eat while I was at school, and never went through the binging phase that sometimes follows that. Then, like many, I was on the run and never really had much to eat. Hunger is not something pressing for me, so it’s easy to ignore. When I’m home, I have….. Reminders?” The light, which had been steadily green this whole time, flashed orange for a half-truth. “Someone who reminds me to eat. Kinda.” 

 

Harry’s life had been public knowledge practically since birth. Everyone knew every little detail about him and his circumstances. People had read his stories, and talked about how much he had ‘accomplished’ and how ‘strong’ he was. He had been thanked by strangers and hated by ghosts. Not one person, however, had ever felt sorry for him. Nobody had ever felt empathy for the  _ shit _ he had been put through simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s why the look Niemand gave him then, one of horror and disgust, took Harry by surprise. “Jesus,” she whispers, still looking horrified. “That’s, well, shit. That’s awful. I’m sorry.” Not a conversation he’s used to having, Harry shrugs. “Ok, yeah. So… the bones?” She grimaces like she doesn’t really want to know the answer. This one is mostly simple, so Harry isn’t worried.

 

“Like I said, mostly Quidditch. I’m pretty accident-prone slash unlucky.” The light stays steady green. “A few of the others happened during the war. A few happened when I was a kid. Those are the ones that didn’t heal properly. I wasn’t around wizards as a kid.” 

 

“The scars?”

 

Harry hesitates, but there’s no way he can answer this one while maintaining his anonymity. “Er, sorry. I can’t actually answer that one. It’s a little too private.” The light switches from orange at him saying he can’t answer to green saying it’s private, so she nods. 

 

“Ok. We have a deal. I won’t pry, you  _ try _ and keep yourself fed and alive. If you need a break, you tell me. K?” She is smiling but giving him her best ‘I’m serious’ look. 

 

Full, warm, and content, Harry can’t help the feeling of floating. He stands and reaches for Niemand. He clasps her hand warmly and thanks her as sincerely as he can. She ducks shyly and turns away to rummage around in a discarded hoodie and pulls out his vape. “I can’t see the portals, but I figured this was your device? You’re always holding it when you leave and when you arrive.” She hands it to him and puts her hand on his shoulder. “Get some sleep, and we’ll meet on Monday like planned, yeah?” 

 

Harry grins. “Yeah."


	6. Chapter 6

 

Once home, Harry turns on Zootopia and falls into a deep sleep on his couch. He wakes up in the early afternoon feeling more refreshed than he has in….well…. years. A small cough pulls his attention to the doorway. Kreacher is standing there waiting for his attention. 

 

“Mast...uh, sir? This came for you while you slept. Kreacher did not want to wake you, I apologize.” The elf is bowing low and holding out a wrapped package with a letter attached. “I am unable to identify where the package came from, but I can assure it poses no harm.”

 

“Thanks, Kreach. I really needed the sleep.” Harry grabs the package and expects Kreacher do disappear as usual. 

 

The elf shifts awkwardly. “I was also sent a request to make you a meal when you awaken. Kreacher was not sure who sent the letter, but he sensed ancient magic, and….someone else? Kreacher did not know what to do, but.” He lets out a frustrated grimace and gestures to the empty table beside the couch. A small plate of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and some lightly cooked vegetables appeared. “Whoever wrote the request seemed worried. So, food, sir. Please eat.” The elf bows hurriedly and disappears. 

 

Harry starts with the letter and reads the familiar writing. 

 

**A message for Nikto from Niemand;**

**“Hello! Sorry for intruding on your afternoon, but I think it’s important for now. Also, sorry-not-sorry, but I did write a second request to the ‘someone who makes sure you eat’ to make sure they do just that. I figured there had to be a better way for us to communicate without sending messages from the barn, so I did a little research and came up with an idea. Inside the box is a something like a ‘cellphone’ but it just lets us write messages instantly to one another. There are also a few potions from my personal collection. There’s a pepper-up potion, recovery, nerve-soothing, and sleepytime. They are my own recipes and meant to be non-addictive and minimum strength.**

**-N**

 

Harry unwraps the package and pulls out a small wooden box. Inside, labeled clearly in neatly swooping handwriting are the potions mentioned. They are in magical vials meant to always release the exact dosage needed. Harry has never been one to fall into the arms of addiction but he appreciates that Niemand was careful to ensure all safety measures possible. Next, Harry pulls out a small silver rectangle. ‘Cellphone’ was a wildly inaccurate statement, and harry isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do with this device. He gently touches the surface and it shifts beneath his finger. The silver fades to black, it grows to fit perfectly in his hands, and a keyboard appears. Not sure what to type, he simply writes out ‘thank you.’ As he is trying to figure out how to turn the screen off, he activates something and the device shrinks and curves until it’s a simple silver bracelet. Glowing green letters show momentarily, almost like a watch face, reading ‘NP.’

 

Harry quickly eats the delicious meal Kreacher prepared and tries to decide what to do with the  rest of his day. It’s only 4, and he is feeling more energized than he has in quite a long time. Deciding that quidditch is, definitely, the right option, Harry scrounges around for his ring and slips it on. He’s grateful to feel short hair this time around, and grins. This body is built much larger than his usual self, so he pulls out his biggest oversized hoodie and tries to find a pair of jeans that will fit. After two failed attempts at engorgio (they just grew everywhere and no longer fit like jeans) he pulls on a pair of joggers. Glancing in the mirror, Harry ensures that he doesn’t look too scruffy before opening his portal. 

 

Upon arrival, Harry is once again met with a magical dilemma. He doesn’t have pockets or anywhere on his body safe to stash his vape. Slipping it into his hoodie pocket he slips over to the bleachers and finds a suitable chunk of wood. He visualizes those arm-bands that muggle runners use to hold their phones and casts the transmogrification spell. The resulting wooden pocket is…..interesting? But utterly useless. He focuses on the velcro strap, the feeling of the elastic and tries again. He now has a pile of raw materials, but that is equally useless unless he is going to hand sew the item. Frowning at the botched project, he hears loud footsteps approaching. 

 

“Hey!” an all too familiar voice shouts out. Harry bites back a chuckle as he turns around. Malfoy may be unaware that they are all one person, but he’s obviously learning not to surprise people. 

 

“Oh, hi? I’m sorry, do I know you?” Harry relaxes his voice to allow this man’s vocal cords to act properly. The voice that leaves his mouth is deep and soothing. 

 

“Uh, no. I just noticed you were struggling a little bit, cursing under your breath and whatnot, and figured I’d offer to help.” Malfoy looks mildly alarmed at the words coming out of his own mouth, and quickly backtracks. “Out loud, I sound like a total creep. Apologies. You probably don’t need my help at all. I just interrupted you.” The blond looks like he’s about to leave so Harry acts quickly. 

 

“I do!” He sounds rather wild to his own ears, but he does really want to get this taken care of so he can get on his broom and just fly. “I would love some help. I fear I’m just no good at transfiguration.”

 

“Oh! Sure. I’d love to help. Give me the quick rundown?”

 

Harry is not used to interacting with the ‘New Malfoy’ and doesn’t know if he will  _ ever _ be used to it. The slimy git from Hogwarts is long gone and now a polite well-spoken man has taken his place. “Sure! I, er, am trying to make a pouch to hold something. I was picturing one of those muggle armbands that hold their phones? Like while they run? I dunno.” He tapers off, realizing how dumb he must sound. Especially to Mr. Pureblood Malfoy. But, to his surprise, Draco nods knowingly.

 

“Oh, yeah! I’ve seen those. That, however, is your problem. You’re focusing too much on the item itself. That’s how you got the materials-- I’m guessing you were thinking of what it’s made out of and how it looks?” Harry nods sheepishly. “Hey, no worries man! Transfiguration is just not an exact science. I only know because I happened to have a great teacher in school. She once told me ‘ _ Draco, stop thinking about all the superfluous details. Think of a goblet in terms of what it’s used for and stop focusing on what it’s going to look like. That’s the only way you’ll make it through this class.’ _ ” Malfoy’s voice turned stern for the memory, but there was no mocking tone to it. In fact, this seemed like a fond memory for the boy. “Sorry, took you on a trip down memory lane with me there. But, yeah. Just think about what you want the pouch to do, not what you want it to look like. Oh, or just put a sealing charm on your pocket so it doesn’t fall out?” 

 

The blond grins mischievously at Harry and winks….  _ Winks?!  _ Before turning and hitting the field. Harry cannot even begin to understand what just happened and is about to call out when he remembers he is not himself. A sealing charm, though, is a brilliant idea. Work smarter, not harder. After casting the spell on his hoodie, he turns to the pile of velcro and elastic still awaiting his attention. Focusing on a carrying device he can keep on his person, he transfigures it one last time. The raw materials disappear and in their place is a little satchel necklace. It’s on a long strap with a little cinched baggie at the bottom. It’s hardly big enough for a stick of gum, but this  _ is _ magic, so he opens it out of curiosity. Sure enough, the bag opens up to reveal a space about 6 inches deep. The necklace goes around his neck and is tucked into his sweater.

 

This time, he and Draco are on opposite teams. Both teams play with friendly ferocity and Harry’s team is behind when thunderclouds roll over the sky. They all shake hands and congratulate each other before heading their own ways. One of the guys from his team and one of the girls that played on Draco’s team headed in the same direction as Harry. He pretends to tie his shoe, waiting for them to pass him by, but they stop where he is instead.

 

“Good game, mate. You’re a wicked flyer.” Harry looks up, surprised, to see the tall one with his hand out. 

 

“Oh, uh, thanks. You too.” 

 

“The name’s James. This here is Chloe and Draco.” He motions to the two blonds with his head, but seems expectant. Harry can’t figure out why for a moment, until Draco leans into his space.

 

“This is where you’re supposed to introduce yourself, you uncivilized swine.” Harry turns towards Malfoy, ready to spit back a retort. The blond, however, is smirking at Harry with a glimmer in his eyes. Once their eyes meet, Malfoy winks at him. 

 

Harry wants to stand there, speechless, for at least ten more minutes. “Er, I’m, uh, James. Too? Sorry.” 

 

“Not your fault our parents were lacking in the creativity department! Nice to meet you, James Two. Wanna join us for a beer and chips down by the dock?” The other James claps him on his back and giving him a winning smile.

 

“Yeah!” The blonde girl chips in. “My parents run the place, and I have a booth set up in the corner that is charmed to the max! No matter what we’re saying or doing, we won’t draw any unwanted muggle attention.” She grins and slings her arm around Draco. “It’s how I met Dray here! Stumbled in drunk  once, waving about his wand and demanding drinks. My parents escorted him to my booth and gave me a call. We’ve been friends since!” 

 

Harry agrees to join them, and they apparate as a group into a back room. The feeling of being surrounded by friends, of talking and laughing, is absolutely refreshing. It’s been much too long since Harry has felt this free. The food is delicious and Harry finds himself eating quite a bit more than normal. He wonders if eating for the third time in one day has affected his metabolism-- this hasn’t happened to him since his days of being fed at Hogwarts. A bit embarrassed, he realizes he’s eaten more than his share. He makes to go order another tray for the table when a pale, warm hand stops him. Grey eyes meet his and the other boy leans over close to be heard better. “I’ve got this one, mate. Our treat since you’re the guest. But that means you’ll have to join us again to make it up, eh?” The tone is light and playful, but Malfoy’s expression is earnest. 

 

“Yeah, I hope I’ll get to. This was real kind of you guys to invite me.” The soft confession brings about cheers and back-thumps as the table enthusiastically dubs him part of the group. After returning with more food, Malfoy (Draco, Harry reminds himself. He’s been introduced as Draco.) slides into the seat next to him. He slides over a fresh mug of Beer and sits back contentedly. Just as Harry is starting to let go of his own tenseness, Chloe gasps and jumps to her feet. 

 

Harry has his wand in hand and is halfway out of his seat when he feels that same warm hand on his elbow. It’s a gentle but insistent tug as a gentle voice whispers “It’s ok. She’s surprised in a good way, nothing bad here. There’s nothing to fear right now, ok. You hear me? You’re ok.” Harry collapses back into his seat and hastily shoves his wand back into his pocket. Chloe, oblivious, has pranced out onto the floor and is now making out with a broody looking guy with tattoos. James, after giving him a once-over, is overly casually sipping on his beer. Draco’s hand is still on Harry’s arm while he is muttering soft reassurances. 

 

Harry takes a deep breath and tries to push out the tension with each exhale. He nods towards Draco, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks, man. Sorry. Didn’t mean to freak out.”

 

Draco gives him a sad smile. “It’s fine, mate. The war fucked with all of us. Chloe is probably the only one at this table that can’t understand why we can be so damn jumpy, why we pull into ourselves, or even just struggle to be out in public. Even Greg, that’s her boyfriend, got pulled into some nasty situations because of the war. And he’s muggle! Didn’t even understand what was happening to him.” 

 

Harry doesn’t trust himself to respond, so he just nods and tries to smile. As the night wears on, Harry finds himself just watching the time. He feels a bit better now, mostly because Draco was just so kind to him. After meeting Greg, he says his goodbyes and heads towards the back of the pub. He glances around for prying eyes and even casts  _ homenum revelio _ . Assured that he’s safe, Harry steps through the portal into his living room. He’s dreading the restless night that most definitely is awaiting him when he sees the little wooden box of potions sitting next to the couch-- right where he left it. (Obviously a not-so-subtle hint from Kreacher.)

 

Harry pulls out the sleepy time and dreamless sleep ones and heads through the hall into his bedroom. He is trying to remember if he can take both the potions at once when something glowing catches his eye. He looks down and sees the watch-phone-communicator still on his wrist. He fiddles with it for a moment until a keyboard glows into existence. He types a quick note and heads into the bathroom to remove his disguise and take a quick shower.

 

Finally used to his own body again, Harry dons pajama pants and grabs his watch-phone as he heads towards bed. He decides that tomorrow will be spent in his own body because it’s starting to feel strange and disconnected. He sits down on the edge and opens the message. 

 

_ ‘There are no negative effects to taking both potions at once! They are complementary and will leave you feeling very refreshed in the morning. Everything I put in the box works with the others, so please don’t stress that! Have a good night’s sleep, and I’ll see you on Monday.’ _

 

The message is very final and doesn’t seem to necessitate a response. Harry downs both potions and lays down. Both potions taste much better than usual-- a bit minty and clean. And those are the last coherent thoughts before drifts into a peaceful and uninterrupted sleep.


	7. Chapter Seven

Harry awakens to the very familiar,  _ very welcomed,  _ scent of cooking bacon the next morning. He scrubs a hand over his face and blinks at the sun pouring in through his window. He owes Niemand a huge thank-you. He hasn't slept through a full night since the war. He also assumes his new tutor is to thank for the wonderful aroma floating through the air.

 

Following his nose, Harry ends up in the kitchen. He sees the small elf working diligently on some delicious looking omelets. “Morning, Kreacher. Whatever you are making smells wonderful!”

 

“Mister Potter can only smell bacon!” The elf admonishes, but he looks pleased nonetheless. Harry invites Kreacher to join him at the table, but Kreacher declines vehemently and disappears with a small plate of his own. 

 

Harry wants to keep the promise he made himself, so he casts only a slight glamour over himself before going for a walk downtown. Blue-eyed, freckled, and scarless, Harry leaves his flat. In need of direction, he picks a small wizard coffee shop that hides in plain sight right in the middle of downtown. In order to appear muggle, he dons sunglasses, a zip-up hoodie and jeans. 

 

It's a twenty minute walk to the Witches’ Brew coffee shop. Harry is feeling energized and refreshed as he steps through the hidden entryway. He blinks in the darkness and quickly taps his sunglasses with his wand to vanish them. It's his first time in the place, but it oozes charm and warmth. 

 

“Hey there. Can I get a treacle tart latté, please?” Harry addresses the bored looking teen behind the counter. He is multitasking like a pro, tapping furiously at his phone beneath the counter while also ringing up orders. Harry is impressed.

 

“Yup. Name?” 

 

“H..uhh, James.” Harry throws out the trusty alias that got him through yesterday's events.

 

“K. Touch your wand to the pad to pay and pick a seat. Your coffee will be waiting there.”

 

Harry picks a quiet little corner table that provides him view of the room, the entrance and the kitchen. He sips at the heavenly brew while trying to decide how to pass the hours. Today is his last day of directionless wallowing and he's over it already. 

 

With nothing to distract him, his mind drifts to yesterday. Over the course of 6th year and onwards, Malfoy had acted very differently. In the sixth year he'd been scared and forced into a corner. While he had done some terrible things during that time, he'd also proved how terrible he  _ wasn't.  _

 

While on the run during seventh year, Harry had had more than enough free time to analyze the other's behavior. From lowering his wand and being unable to kill Dumbledore to sobbing in Myrtle's bathroom, unable to cast a curse on Harry.

 

“ _ You have to mean it.”  _ Echoed Bellatrix”s voice in his head. After Malfoy had refused to identify Harry at the Manor, and they had escaped to Shell Cottage, Harry had spent a lot of time wondering what it all meant. Then, finally, Mrs. Malfoy betraying the Dark Lord and savior Harry for the knowledge that her son  _ might _ be alive…. Harry had seen things in a totally new light.

 

Draco Malfoy was a child under the influence of his Father. Draco tried to do both what was right and what was wrong by saving his family/agreeing to kill Dumbledore. 

 

For almost a year, Harry had been re-living moments of the war on repeat. One thing that had managed to seal itself in his brain was the look of pleading in Draco’s eyes when he snuck Harry's wand into his hand, behind Voldemort's back. The other boy hadn't done it for redemption or to repay Harry for saving him from the feindfyre. Draco had thrust the wand into his hands while grey eyes had begged him “finish this.”

 

They hadn't spoke after that day, not in person. Harry had heard news that Draco & Narcissa were to stand trial and, most likely, be sent to Azkaban to join Lucius. Remembering those pleading eyes for the thousandth time, Harry had acted on a whim. He talked to Mr. Weasley in private, hired a lawyer with a 20-page NDA agreement, and stood as a defendant during the trial. He only shared relevant details which, as his lawyer had unearthed, turned out to be quite a long list. 

 

Narcissa wept openly while Draco watched quietly but curiously. Harry had entertained the idea that maybe they could reconcile and forget their history after that. However, after the ruling, both of them had quietly disappeared. The one thing that had kept Harry hopeful that he'd made the right decision was a letter that arrived a week later. Well, a scrap of parchment with the word ‘ _ thanks’ _ scrawled out in loopy handwriting.

 

After seeing Draco on the quidditch field the other day, he'd felt very reassured. It seems that he & his mother had simply managed to leave (and stay out of) the limelight. Something difficult to do, as Harry is painfully aware. And now, looking at it with new perspective, Harry realizes it is the exact same thing that he'd done at the time.

 

The trial had been Harry's last 'public’ event before reclusing from the world at large. The articles speculating where he was and what he was doing had slowly stopped showing up in The Prophet. He'd unceremoniously pushed his friends away and disappeared.

 

Suddenly, Harry knows how he wants to spend his Sunday. Despite his promise to himself, he starts a brisk walk back towards his flat. Once inside, he grabs his ring and slips it on. He changes out of jeans (the WORST pants for broom flying, it turns out) and grabs some joggers out of the laundry bin. With a silent thank you to Hermione for teaching him a laundry spell while they'd been on the run, he cleans them and opens a portal.

 

Remembering his last two visits, Harry stops right before stepping through. He quickly conjures a hairband (thank you, Draco) and puts his hair up. He chances a glance at the mirror and notices that he's a very pretty brunette with striking blue eyes. He briefly wonders if the all the ring's disguises are visually-appealing. He casts a sealing spell on his pocket (thank you  _ again _ , Draco) and finally steps through the waiting portal. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue here. I needed it for some character development, bit writing dialogue is so *not* my strong suit. Apologies.

Harry is disappointed when he arrives at an empty field. Then he chides himself for the silly thought-- of course it's empty. These people, unlike him, have families and lives. He should really consider himself lucky that he's had others to play with before now. 

 

Rolling his eyes at himself, Harry mounts his broom and takes off around the field. After looping a few times, he starts to do barrel rolls and even some fake-out dives. Exhilaration fills him as he flies without inhibitions. Letting out a loud 'whoop’ he dives down towards the ground in a cyclone, pulling up mere inches from the ground. He is smiling and laughing when he notices Draco standing at the bleachers, watching him with a smile.

 

Harry lets out a surprised yelp and falls off his broom. Luckily, he's only hovering about a foot off the ground and nothing but his pride is injured. He sees Draco quickly turn to hide his laugh, but it's too late. Harry puts in his best scowl, but Draco only snorts at him as he approaches. 

 

After they both stop laughing, the blond boy has the decency to look mildly apologetic. “I really didn't mean to surprise you! I just saw you flying out here, so I figured I'd join ya.” Draco raises an inquisitive brow and continues “you are  _ exponentially _ more graceful in the air than on the ground, anyone ever tell you that?” 

 

“Only a time or twelve!” Harry says, having a laugh at himself. If he could live a life of the ground, he would.

 

“So, is it still James? Or should we change it to Jamie today?” Draco asks, casually. 

 

Harry is dumbstruck and gapes at him openly. “Huh? Wha…. How'd….?”

 

Draco's light tone is quickly lost as he frowns in concern. “Oh, shit. I'm sorry. You didn't want me to recognize you, of course. I'm an idiot, I'm sorry. I can just…..go?” 

 

Harry gives his best reassuring smile. “It's not you I'm worried about! I just spend a lot of time hiding, and don't really know how to be out and about as myself. You just caught me off guard. How'd ya know?” 

 

By this time, they are both standing by the bleachers. Draco gives him a small smirk “tell you what. You come have lunch with me, and I'll tell you. Deal?”

 

Harry grins and agrees readily. He really enjoyed getting outside his own head last time, and is looking forward to getting to do it again today. Suddenly, a thought dawns on him and panic bubbles. “Wait, you knew who I was. Do you know who I am!? Did you know this whole time?”

 

Before the panic can fully surface, however, Draco holds up a placating hand. He shakes his head solemnly and says “I don't know who you are and I was not, at any point in time, trying to figure it out. We all have to find our peace one way or another. I moved out here to the middle of nowhere to find a fresh start You live your life as a new person each day, I'm assuming?”

 

Harry gives a non-committal shrug/nod. Unfazed, Draco smiles warmly. “Neither of us is here with any ill-intent. This quidditch field is just a peaceful and innocent escape. I don't know why, but I feel like it calls to the lonely souls. Chloe. James. Me. We were all lost and this place brought us together. And now, you too. At this point in my life, I just take everything at face value and life the best life I can, y'know?” 

 

He gives Harry a look, then. Almost like he's hopeful Harry doesn't think he's crazy. Harry's head bobbing enthusiastically must reassure Draco. The blond clasps his hand on Harry's shoulder and leans in. “Sorry for blabbing year ear off, mate! We're here. Lunch is on me, eh?” 

 

Unable to help his reactions around this completely new version of his childhood nemesis, Harry bursts out laughing. “You're an odd one, Draco. I'm genuinely glad I got this chance to know you.” Draco beams at him, and they pick a table. 

 

It's been an hour, the food is gone, and Harry never wants to leave. He suddenly misses his friends and decides he's going to write them both long and sincere apologies tonight. That thought spurs another and Harry suddenly looks up at Draco intently. “Hey, Draco?” 

 

“Yes, person whose name I still don't know after two hours?”

 

Harry can't help but giggle at that. “Uhhh, let's stick with James? I think I'll respond to that better. Where are we?”

 

“It’s called ‘Oxford's’, it's my favorite sandwich shop in town. What do you usually introduce yourself as when you go out?”

 

“Er, no. Like what city? Are we still in England? And I don't. I haven't exactly interacted with anyone in quite a while. Hence the disguises.”

 

The man across from him is giving home  _ a look _ . “Ok, I'll gloss over how you ended up here without knowing  _ what country it is _ . Yes, we're in England. Castle Combe is a small village in Wiltshire. The wizards and muggles here have a very peaceful coexistence. You don't have to answer, but how did you end up here?”

 

Harry considered his words carefully before answering. Draco was, obviously, a different person than the 'Malfoy’ that Harry had known. He didn't feel the need to hide from the boy. However, he felt like the new friendship would become strained considering their history. 

 

“I was here, once. Not the town, the woods outside the courts. During the war. I didn't get a chance to go to the courts then, but I had thought I would like to. I decided that if I survived, I would come back and fly here at least once.” Harry watches Draco carefully and his heart sinks when the blond looks like he's about to cry. Before he can say anything, Draco speaks.

 

“Do you know who I am?” He avoids eye contact while he awaits Harry's inevitable answer.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you still want to be friends? Knowing… knowing what side I was on?” Harry sees Draco absentmindedly rubbing where his dark mark was.

 

“Yes.”

 

A few tears escape, but Draco quickly wipes them away. “Why?” His voice sounds like it's being physically wrenched out of him. Harry has to fight the very strong urge to hug him.

 

“Because war is shades of grey. We all do what we think,” he pauses, “no, what we  _ hope _ is right. There are no winners in a war. There is only loss and more loss. You can't be a good guy when you have that much blood on your hands. You can't be a bad guy when you risk your life to save others.” 

 

Draco lets out an odd, strangled noise. Harry decides to continue. He's been waiting a year to say this, he might as well say it all. “I said I know who you are, but that was a lie.” Harry gives the man across from him a heavy look. “I knew who you were. The man I met here in Castle Combe? A stranger. Someone I have enjoyed meeting and would like to get to know, but a stranger.” 

 

Knowing the gesture wouldn't be as meaningful without knowing who he really is, Harry reaches his hand out to offer a handshake. “I'd like to be friends, Draco. Whad'ya say?”

 

The blond smiles, his first genuine smile in almost an hour. He grasps Harry's hand firmly in his own “Friends” he declares with a smile.

 

\-----

  
  


Sunset is painting the horizon in shades of purple and orange as Harry and Draco walk idly back towards the Quidditch field. Harry breaks the peaceful quiet with an oh-so Harry outburst, “hey!” He stops in his tracks and the other boy almost plows right into him.

 

“Hey, yourself! You trying to cause an accident, James?!” 

 

Harry winces at the name. Maybe he can ask Draco to just simply never address him by name. He wonders how well that would work. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he voices what had originally caused his outrage. 

 

“You never told me how you recognized me today!”

 

Draco takes a moment to recover his composure and then smirks at Harry. “Awh, shucks! I conned you into a lunch date and didn't even put out?!” The blond gives Harry his best scandalized look, but bursts into laughter when the other swats his shoulder playfully. 

 

“Ok, ok! A promise is a promise.” Draco let's the suspense build for a moment before continuing. “Your flying. I was watching you fly from my window---that sounds so creepy now, I apologise--- and realized you were the same flyer from yesterday.”

 

Draco looks rather proud of himself, but alarm bells are going off like crazy in his head. If Draco could recognize him after twice here, how long before he starts remembering Harry from their numerous quidditch matches in school? “My flying?” Harry finally asks.

 

Draco looks confused and a bit hurt. “I wasn't being creepy, I promise. I can just see the field from my window. You are the best damn flyer I've seen in these parts. What are the chances  _ two _ pro-level quidditch players happen to show up in Castle Combe in two days?” Draco sounds defensive, leaving Harry feeling guilty.

 

Relief washes over him and he makes an attempt to lighten the mood. “I dunno, Draco. I saw you flying out there yesterday, too! Maybe the field just attracts players like us?” Harry tried for flippant and casual. He definitely came across as awkward and hopeful.

 

It worked. Draco's face broke into a smile and their light-hearted banter continued until they reached the bleachers. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Sunset is painting the horizon in shades of purple and orange as Harry and Draco walk idly back towards the Quidditch field. Harry breaks the peaceful quiet with an oh-so Harry outburst, “hey!” He stops in his tracks and the other boy almost plows right into him.

 

“Hey, yourself! You trying to cause an accident, James?!” 

 

Harry winces at the name. Maybe he can ask Draco to just simply never address him by name. He wonders how well that would work. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he voices what had originally caused his outrage. 

 

“You never told me how you recognized me today!”

 

Draco takes a moment to recover his composure and then smirks at Harry. “Awh, shucks! I conned you into a lunch date and didn't even put out?!” The blond gives Harry his best scandalized look, but bursts into laughter when the other swats his shoulder playfully. 

 

“Ok, ok! A promise is a promise.” Draco let's the suspense build for a moment before continuing. “Your flying. I was watching you fly from my window---that sounds so creepy now, I apologise--- and realized you were the same flyer from yesterday.”

 

Draco looks rather proud of himself, but alarm bells are going off like crazy in Harry's head. If Draco could recognize him after twice here, how long before he starts remembering Harry from their numerous quidditch matches in school? “My flying?” Harry finally asks.

 

Draco looks confused and a bit hurt. “I wasn't being creepy, I promise. I can just see the field from my window. You are the best damn flyer I've seen in these parts. What are the chances  _ two _ pro-level quidditch players happen to show up in Castle Combe in two days?” Draco sounds defensive, leaving Harry feeling guilty.

 

Relief washes over him and he makes an attempt to lighten the mood. “I dunno, Draco. I saw you flying out there yesterday, too!” Harry tried for flippant and casual. He definitely came across as awkward and hopeful.

 

It worked. Draco's face breaks into a small smile and their light-hearted banter continues until they reached the bleachers. They finish their conversation, but Harry feels reluctant to leave. He starts to reach into his pocket for the portal-maker, but stops. It's too unique an item and would raise questions or curiosity. 

 

Draco must catch onto the awkwardness, because he gently touches Harry's arm. The growing panic subsides and Harry glances down, avoiding eye contact. “I, uh, don't like apparating. I can't go back the way I came, so.” He peters off, not entirely sure how to finish the statement. “I was trying to figure out where the closest public floo point might be.”

 

Harry peeks up at Draco through his lashes only to be met with a warm look. “No prob. It's like a five minute walk to mine from here.” Draco didn't wait for a response and took off down a well-traveled path. “I know how keen you are on secrecy. When we get there, you can cast a silencing spell. So you don't open a line to your place, just floo somewhere nearby and walk home.”

 

Draco has already reached his door when he finally realizes that Harry is stopped dead in his tracks a few feet back. He glances back at Harry with a twinkle in his eyes. “Coming?” He asks. Harry follows, still trying to wrap his head around this enigma. This person and the boy he once knew from school were two very different people.

 

Those thoughts, however, are quickly filed away for later. Harry knows that he is stepping inside Draco's personal life because the other is doing him a huge favour. He tries his best to keep his eyes on Draco as he follows him through a brightly lit kitchen. Try as he might n _ ot to _ , Harry does notice small details. The small home is decorated simply with little details of opulence. It's really beautiful.

 

Draco gives him an intent look. “So, I'm going to go busy myself in the kitchen and let you do your thing.” The blond gestures to the Grand fireplace, with an elegant dish of floo powder. “But, before I do that, is there any way for me to get ahold of you? I want to see you again.” His tone is open and honest and Harry has to force his jaw closed. 

 

“Do you have” Harry pauses, not entirely sure how Draco will respond. “Err, like email or something? I spent too long waiting for important messages and became rather fond of instant communication.” Harry grimaces even before he finishes the sentence. To his surprise, however, Draco nods enthusiastically and scribbles an email address on a scrap of paper. 

 

The two share a grin before Draco saunters off towards his kitchen. Harry pulls out his wand and mumbles _ muffliato _ . Once the silencing charm is complete, he grabs a pinch of powder and steps into the elaborate fireplace. He heads to a popular floo point near his home, drops a quick glamour, and walks home.

 

It's still early evening when Harry walks in his front door. He orders pizza and sits down with his laptop. Tonight is going to be a self-indulgent muggle style night. Harry pulls up his Gmail account and stares blankly at the empty white box. He wonders, briefly, if he should create a new account. This one was originally created on a whim when Harry first moved into the place. He'd signed up for a dating site and needed an email verification.

 

Shaking the fairly awful memories from his head, he types out a simple message. Erases it. Types another. Erases it. Finally, he simply types one word and hits send.

 

**ManWhoLives:** _ Hi _

 

Satisfied, Harry decides to dust off the dating profile he tried so hard to forget. The first round had been an utter failure and he wasn't sure how this time would be any different. Despite growing up muggle, it's not like Harry had the opportunity to experience much of the muggle lifestyle. He had tried going out on two dates before closing out of the website and never going back.

 

The first date had been great. They had chatted for two hours over a wonderful lunch and then went for a long walk through downtown. They shared a kiss before she climbed in her car, and he went home excited for date number two. Only, date number two never happened. Harry had sent her a message a few days later to see if she wanted to go to an album release party with him. She had replied that Harry seemed too secretive and that she wasn't interested.

 

The next date had set off alarm bells in Harry's head even before he accepted. She had kept commenting on his look and that he 'looked like someone she knows’. When they had met-- a quiet muggle pub, she had yanked him into a dark broom closet. She had pushed him into a wall yammering with nonsense about 'look alikes’ and 'all this time’. Then she'd pulled a wand on him and he'd had her disarmed and petrified in a moment's thought.

 

It hadn't taken more than one question from Harry to get 'Lucy’ talking. She was a witch who had been dating muggle men who looked like...wait for it…. Harry Potter. Harry's photo was a cropped selfie, but the crazy witch had the ability to magically reveal original photos. So, she had baited him in by telling him all the things (she thought) he'd wanted to hear. Apparently, however, her plan had stopped at meeting him. 

 

After a quick notification to the Ministry, Lucy had been arrested. Harry had gone home and never touched the dating site again. Until tonight, that is. Harry is scrolling through profile after profile but none are appealing to him. Wondering if maybe his tastes weren't quite what he originally thought, Harry scrolled through his 'personal preferences’ page. After changing his 'seeking’ options, he scrolled for another 20 minutes.

 

_ Useless. _

 

No matter whose profile he looked at, one particular point kept surfacing;  _ none of them are Draco.  _

 

Deciding it's time to call it a night, Harry curls up on his couch while FRIENDS picks up from where he left it last time. He has an early morning tomorrow and needs to be focused. Something seemingly forgotten nags at the back of his brain, but Harry can't quite figure out what he could be forgetting.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weirdly short chapter, sorry!

Harry is nervously pacing through his living room. He conjures the _tempus_ spell to see the time. It's still an hour before their agreed meeting time, but Harry's nerves are on edge. Finally giving up, he opens a portal and steps into The Barn. After his eyes adjust to the lighting change, he starts when he sees a young man sitting at the large center table.

 

“Hi,” Harry says, waving awkwardly. Today, he's about a foot taller than usual and struggling a bit to adapt to the new body. As if on cue, he smacks his head on a wayword shelf and feels himself sink to the ground. “Ow,” he grumbles as he re-adjusts to sit more comfortably on the ground.

 

“So,” Niemand says softly, “lesson one begins. What spell do you use to heal a wound like this?”

 

Harry looks up at his teacher, entirely unimpressed by the timing. “Episkey for small wounds like this. Essence of dittany for ones that cannot be healed with spellpower. I know there's a stronger healing spell for deeper wounds, but I've only seen it used, never heard the invocation.”

 

His teacher nods approvingly and quietly casts _episkey_ , healing Harry's wound. “Before we continue,” the dark-haired man looks up intently at Harry. “I need you to answer me honestly. When did you last eat?”

 

 _“Fuck_ ”, Harry mumbles under his breath. He had known he was forgetting something, just didn't know what. He hadn't been home, so Kreacher hadn't fed him last night, and then he'd left well before his planned departure this morning. After lunch with Draco yesterday, Harry hadn't eaten anything. It's less than 24 hours, but it was still breaking the agreement he'd made with Niemand.

 

After having let him suffer for a minute, Harry was given a pass. “Look, I know it takes time for form a new habit. I just need to know you are working on it. I assume you weren't home and therefore weren't reminded to eat?” Harry nods sheepishly. “Ok, close your eyes and repeat after me _salutem integrum.”_ Harry repeated the words diligently and then copied the wand movements. He was bathed in warmth for a moment before a little parchment piece, burned at the edges, appeared before him.

 

“Read it aloud.” Niemand commanded.

 

“Ok,” Harry frowned at the paper for a moment before he realized what he was looking at. It was like something from a video game, charting out his health, hunger, stamina, and more. “Health 85%, stamina 62%, hunger 42%, Mana 92%, mentis 22%, recovery 44%.”

 

Harry looks at his professor to barely catch him schooling a look of shock into ennui. “We'll go over what these mean later, Nikto.” He grabs the parchment and sets in in a filing cabinet that materialized moments before he reached the spot. “Those charts will help us to ensure you _learn_ from what we do here, not just react or push back subconsciously. First, however, we are going to eat.”

 

The dark-haired teacher looks up, then, and addresses the barn. “Can you provide us with knowledge of a nearby cafe?” A cute paper menu materializes on the table, along with a photo of the cafe and a description of the apparation-safe entrance. “Thanks.” Niemand addresses the building before suddenly stepping forward and disappearing. Harry follows a moment later.

 

An hour later, they are both back in The Barn. Harry feels irritated, but is trying his best to keep the emotion in check. Niemand, however, is showing his frustration openly. “Why. Can't. You. Just. Listen?!” He bites each word out at the taller man, fire flaring in his eyes.

 

Harry takes a deep breath. “I _am_ listening. I'm not _understanding._ Why does my health reading affect what you teach me and when? I hired you to be my teacher, not my doctor.”

 

Niemand face palms. He quite literally smacks himself in the forehead and then drags his hand dramatically over his face. “Because, Nikto, you are not currently mentally stable. To put it bluntly, you are a wreck. You hired me to _teach_ you how to function in this world. I'm going to do that my way, or I'm going to leave. Understand.”

 

“No!” Harry hisses at the other man. “Just teach me spells and theory. I _will_ eat. I. Am. Fine.” Now he is the one spitting out disdainful words.

 

The response that comes is unexpected. “How many times have you said that? To people who care about you. To strangers. To everyone.” He waves his hand over the table and a familiar green light glows softly.

 

“Er… a lot?” The light remains green, and Harry sighs heavily and sits back down in his chair defeatedly. “Fine. I will do a read for you once a day. You will take it into consideration, but not weight it too heavily against me. I will trust you to be the professional and you will trust me to know my own limits.”

 

Niemand nods in agreement and reaches a hand out to shake on it. “Deal.”

 

They go over the lesson plan together, and Harry highlights areas of particular interest and circles ones he thinks may need more time than allotted. From there, they begin at the beginning. Niemand had picked a simple spell-- lumos-- to begin spell theory. They worked for hours understanding the variations, roots, and theories.

 

Lunchtime rolled around and a small old-fashioned bell alarm clock appeared on the table between them. It rang obnoxiously for a moment, announced the time, and disappeared just as quickly. Harry was grateful for the distraction. He'd had a headache since they had started learning the various applications for lumos’ antonym; nox. That was over an hour ago.

 

“Let's step outside and summon a food truck, eh? We can move into practical work afterwards, stretch our legs a bit.” Harry nodded enthusiastically and followed the shorter man outside the barn. Niemand did a fancy hand movement and moments later, a crashing sound surrounded them. Harry's hand was already on his wand by the time Niemand was gently grabbing his arm. “It's a magical food truck. I summoned it just now. It's OK.”

 

Harry nodded, but didn't re-pocket his wand. Together, they stepped up to the battered looking truck and took turns ordering. Harry went second and peeked into the truck suspiciously. There were ingredients everywhere, but no sign of cooking tools. “It's ok,” a voice says from his shoulder. “Stan Shunpike? You might have seen his trial. Harry Potter spoke for his defense and he was acquitted. Innocent. I, uh, helped him start this business. He's a good guy, just needed a little help finding direction after the war.”

 

Harry felt the breath knocked out of him. He remembers standing trial for Stan. The kid had been under the _imperius_ for much of the war, and did not deserve Azkaban. Harry, however, feels like an idiot. He hadn't stopped to think about what Stan needed in order to get back on his feet. Harry had simply charged into things headfirst (as always) with one goal and no thought for consequences.

 

Harry ordered quickly, and they went around to a shady patch by some trees to eat. Niemand transfigured some roots into a rustic picnic table while Harry started pacing, casting spells of protection. _Protego. Muffliato_ . _Repello Muggletum._ He was so caught up, he almost missed the soft voice calling to him. He starts, and looks around. The other man is standing a few feet away, hands up in innocence.

 

Harry feels his face heat up as he realizes what he'd been doing. Eating in the woods had just taken him right back to his seventh year again. He lowers his wand sheepishly and mumbles an apology. He sits across the table from Niemand to eat, but doesn't lower the wards. He hasn't been outside like this in over a year and he can feel his blood rushing through his veins, carrying the jolt of adrenaline.

 

Once they finished eating, they headed back into The Barn to finish the day's lesson. Things felt a little strained, but the lesson was fruitful. Harry did his best to ignore the weighted glances that kept being thrown his way. By 4 PM, they had wrapped up the day and we're heading their own ways. Harry was an odd mix of wound-up and exhausted when he stepped into his living room.

 

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and fluffy

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the name on the screen in front of him.

 

 **DragonBoy:** _Really? Hi? You can do better than that._

 

 **ManWhoLives:** _Ok, hello! I am not sure how to go about asking this, but I've never been much of a 'think things out first’ type. So….here goes? I had an exhausting day and really don't feel like doing anything. At the same time, though, I can't seem to stop thinking about you. Would you be interested in hanging out tonight? A quiet night in, maybe I can cook dinner for you? We can get to know each other better. If you're interested, of course._

 

Harry hits send before he can change his mind. He beckons Kreacher and asks him to go grocery shopping. While waiting for the reply, Harry starts at his front door and sweeps through his home. He tries to see it as an outsider would, looking for any signs that name him as the owner. It's almost depressing, he realizes, how little personality his home has. By the end of the sweep, he has taken down three photos and hidden a few trinkets and letters.

 

Kreacher returns with groceries and an uncharacteristic smile on his face. Harry assumes it has something to do with him both cooking & socializing for the first time since the war. Harry allows himself a grin before thanking Kreacher and prepping the ingredients. Realizing how much time had passed, Harry nervously summons his laptop. With a quick button push, Harry refreshes the screen and waits.

 

 **DragonBoy:** _I thought you'd never ask! I would enjoy that immensely. Do you want to do it here, at my place? To protect your anonymity?_

 

Harry can't help the swell of happiness at Draco's thoughtfulness. He types a quick reply, and includes the floo-address for his personal floo. By the time he gets back to his food preparation, his palms are sweating and his thoughts are going a million miles an hour. It's been a long time since he's cooked, and he's never done it for someone else _willingly_.

 

Just as Harry fears that he's made a huge mistake, he hears the familiar whoosh of someone arriving in his floo. Harry wipes his palms on his apron and turns to go meet his guest. Catching his reflection in the window, he hurriedly slips on the ring and enters the living room.

 

Draco is standing on the large hearth, awkwardly looking around. Harry's inhibitions slip away as he greets the familiar blond.

 

“Draco! You came. Thank you.” Harry is grinning as he pulls a surprised Draco into a quick hug. After letting go, Harry takes a worried step back. “Draco? What's wrong?” The other man looks disappointed. He sneaks a peek at his reflection, worried about his disguise, but he is a handsome tanned man with amazing muscles.

 

The blond shrugs, as if embarrassed, before finally admitting in a quiet voice “I just thought I'd get to meet the real you tonight.” He looks up at Harry, and waves his hands a little frantically. “It's OK! I get it. I just was excited when you said we'd get to know each other.”

 

Harry feels his heart sink. He hadn't thought about this side of things. Draco _will_ eventually want to know who he is. Obviously, is already wondering. Once Draco knows, they won't be friends anymore. The pain of rejection will probably send Harry right back to square one. _Fuck._ Why hadn't he thought of any of this before? He was so selfish, just hoping Draco would never ask about his past or why he wore a new body each day.

 

Draco, the observant and wonderful wizard that he was, saw Harry spiraling out of control. He grins up at Harry mischievously and cocks a brow. “So, you gonna give me the grand tour? Or am I expected to stand on this hearth the whole evening?”

 

Harry belts out a laugh, caught off guard by the snarky (but much-needed) comment. He grins back at Draco and quickly walks him through his small home, ending with the kitchen. Draco plops down on the island counter to watch Harry cook. The next hour is filled with light-hearted banter, a few deep conversations, and the delicious smell of homemade pizza.

  


Things went wonderfully during dinner. Harry talked a little about himself. He talked about quidditch and how he's trying to figure out what his future holds. Draco talked about his garden and Chloe & James. It was pleasant, easy conversation and Harry wanted it to never end. They finished eating and Harry put away leftovers while Draco charmed the dishes clean.

 

They both sat on the couch and Harry blushed as he suggested a movie. Draco glowed at the suggestion and told Harry to pick something. Harry grins and starts browsing for the perfect movies. With a gleeful cheer, he hits play on The Princess Bride. “This will tell me a lot about you, Draco.”

 

“And what will it tell me about you?” Draco asks, sincerely.

 

Harry pauses to consider for a moment. “That I’m a hopeless romantic with a taste for the classics?” Draco nods but doesn’t respond. The settle in to enjoy the movie. Harry makes little comments here and there and quotes things a _little_ more than he intended.

 

The movie ends and Draco looks at Harry. His eyes are shining and his smile goes to his eyes and crinkles the edges. “That was ah-maz-ing. I loved it.” He frowns for a second, then regards Harry. “So…..what does that tell you about me?” His voice wavers despite the smile.

 

“That you’re perfect.” Harry closes the distance between them and places a hand on Draco’s jaw. He moves in slowly and their lips meet in a tender kiss.

 

Draco breaks the kiss and pulls away. Harry is floating on cloud 9, but the blond looks like a million things are fighting for precedence in his mind. Harry frowns. “What is it?”

 

Draco takes a deep breath then blurts out “when will you tell me who you are? When do I get to meet you for real?” Harry can tell he’s frustrated and hurt. He thinks Harry doesn’t trust him.

 

He looks him in the eyes and reaches out for a pale hand. “I’m afraid. Not of you or for myself. I’m afraid that you won’t want to know the real me. I’m afraid that you’ll never speak to me again once you hear my name, see my face. I’m afraid, because I’ve fallen for you but you only know the surface of who I am.” He pauses, breaks eye contact, but grips the hand in his even harder. “It’s selfish and I don’t deserve it. But, if I could have any wish in the world, it’d be for you to agree to get to know me. I would wish for a new beginning with you. I want you to give _me_ a chance. And then, I promise” he looks back into those silver eyes. “I promise, I’ll show you who I am and let you make your decision.” Harry blinks, surprised to feel tears in his eyes. The fear of Draco’s rejection had been dancing in the back of his mind since they had met. He just hadn’t quite grasped how strong the fear was, apparently.

 

Draco slipped his hand out of Harry’s. Harry couldn’t look up, couldn’t face the rejection. Tears slipped down his cheeks and waited to feel the couch shift as Draco stood up and left forever. He was startled into looking up as two hands, one warm and one cold, grasped his face. His eyes met Draco’s and the other spoke softly. “I don’t think I could reject you even if I wanted to.” Harry smiles without humour and goes to respond, but Draco silences him with a finger. “However, I respect your fears. I won’t push you to tell me who you are… _yet._ But you promise me that you’ll try to open up to me more, ok?” Harry nods vigorously. “But, I can’t kiss you in anyone else's body. That just kinda freaks me out. So, we’ll keep it G. If you ever want it to go further, you’ll have to do it as yourself. Deal?”

 

Harry’s eyes are wide as he stares at Draco. “You,” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “You really mean it? You’ll give me a chance?” Draco smiles and nods.

 

Harry takes another deep breath. He’d been playing with the idea all night. He may very well be insane.But Draco is willing to trust him so he is going to return the favour. He gives Draco a quick hug, throws a pinch of Floo into the fire, and tells Draco “close your eyes.” The blond does so without hesitation and Harry’s heart skips a beat. He slips off the ring and steps into his space.

 

He takes Draco’s hands and places them onto his face. Draco tenses for a second before allowing his hands to explore Harry’s face. Harry keeps a beard now and Draco runs his fingers through the course hairs from chin to jaw to hairline. He runs his thumb across Harry’s dry lips. He pauses at a scar that runs across Harry’s cheek before continuing to trace his face. Harry smiles and Draco’s movements stall. “This is the real me.” Harry’s voice is a soft whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

 

Draco nods.

 

They kiss, gently.

 

And then Draco steps into the flames, eyes still shut. He grins as he loudly announces “Chalet Caché.” The green flames engulf him and he’s gone.

 

Harry rakes a hand through his hair and focuses on slowing his pounding heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, y'all. Confession time-- I absolutely despise when the plot skips ahead too quickly and without reason. I am trying to write a story that moves forward enough, but not too quickly. I'm a little worried about this chapter. I would love to know if it works OK or deserves a re-do.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue in the form of emails. This chapter and the next are kinda 'fillers' to build the relationship and move things forward. Sorry if they are boring, this is actually usually where I quit the stories I'm writing.   
> Feedback welcomed & I'm never too proud to re-do a chapter.

Lessons with Niemand take up much of Harry's time during the following days. Harry, true to his agreement, does a health read each day. He never looks at it after that first read, however. He's not interested in dwelling on the present.

 

His teacher proves to be more than worthy of the task at hand. Each day, they start with something simple that Harry already knows. They learn  _ how _ the spell works and why. And then they learn the variations. Niemand is always well-spoken and professional, but relaxes and chats with Harry at lunch.

 

Today is Friday and Harry hasn't looked forward to a weekend like this since his school days. After the lessons in summoning and repulsion yesterday, Harry is covered in bruises and mentally exhausted. However, he is equally grateful. 

 

Learning, it turns out, is much easier to do when each day doesn't pose a new threat to Harry and the world at large. As hoped, the practical lessons are sticking with Harry like glue and they are already halfway through week 3’s lesson plans. 

 

Harry is pushing himself, he knows, but it feels great. He hasn't worked towards something other than survival his whole life. This new life of learning for his own sake is downright exhilarating. His professor is always quiet but seems pleased with Harry's progress. 

 

Each day, his professor checks his health reads and asks him about yesterday's lessons. Then he covers the current day's plan and they get started. Harry wishes he had lessons like this while in school and often voices such. Niemand smiles shyly at the compliment no matter his form for the day and quickly re-focuses Harry on the lesson at hand. 

 

Today's lesson is on conjuring vs. transfiguration. Despite recent lessons on the topic, Harry is still struggling to conjure from thin air. After a fifth failed attempt, Niemand stands and stretches. “It's a little early, but I'm famished. You ok with eating a bit early today?” Harry knows that this is simply a distraction to clear his mind. He smiles and nods, grateful for said distraction.

 

As they eat at their picnic table, Niemand chats amicably with Harry. It might be his imagination, but the stoic professor seems happy today. Surprising even himself, Harry asks “so, why teaching?”

 

The other gives him a contemplative look before answering. “After the war, a lot of people were struggling with what to do next. I had the benefit of private tutors and teachers, so a few friends asked me to help them. It just kept growing from there. Surprised the hell out of my mom. Me, too, really. But I love it. It's rewarding.”

 

Harry nods enthusiastically. It reminds him a bit of how he felt, leading the DA. Casting _tempus_ , they realize they are running late and head back inside to continue the lesson. Self-confidence restored, Harry is finally able to conjure a chair by the time they call it a day. It's not much, but it seems to have opened a new door for Harry. With the successful cast had come the inherent knowledge of _how_ to conjure. 

 

Niemand gives him a big smile and a pat on the back before they both portal away to their own lives.

 

Once home, Harry pulls up his email. He has exchanged a few messages with Draco since their date, but they haven't seen each other. 

  
  


**ManWhoLives:** _ I'm hoping for the chance to see you this weekend. What can I do to earn your time? _

 

Harry makes himself a sandwich and turns on  Princess Bride for the third time this week. He doesn't have to wait long for Draco's response. 

 

**DragonBoy:** _ Mother is visiting on Sunday, but I'm free Saturday. How about a game of 20 questions as 'payment’ for my precious time? _

 

Harry grins. 

 

**ManWhoLives:** _ Deal. You go first. _

 

**DragonBoy:** _ How old are you? _

 

**ManWhoLives:** _ Almost 19, same as you. Favorite muggle guilty pleasure? _

 

**DragonBoy:** _ Currently? Either movies or email. Both for obvious reasons. What are you most confident about? _

 

 **ManWhoLives:** _I am going to have to agree with your answer on that one. I am re-watching_ _Princess Bride_ _for the millionth time. As for my confidence, that would have to be flying, at least for now. What is your biggest self doubt?_

 

**DragonBoy:** _ My confidence is definitely in potions. My biggest doubt is whether I can ever really learn to be my own person. There are so many stigmas and expectations that come with simply being me.  _

 

_ What is something everyone gets wrong about you? _

 

**ManWhoLives:** _ I definitely understand that one. I always fear that I will never be the person everyone thinks I already am. They all put me on this impossible pedestal.  _

 

_ Is it a cop-out to simply repeat my last answer here? Probably. Everyone thinks I have this easy life with opportunities just handed to me. Every single day of my life has been a struggle, but it's not really something anyone wants to hear about. Y'know? _

 

_ Chocolate Frog Card secret crush? _

 

**DragonBoy:** _ This sounds cliche, but everyone thinks I'm a daddy's boy. My dad is pretty much an asshole. (I love him, but an asshole nonetheless.) I'm actually much closer to my mom. _

 

_ I'm so glad you made this light-hearted again! Definitely Glenda Chittock. She just looks like a badass! For my question, I want to wait and hear what you answer for this, first.  _

 

**ManWhoLives:** _ I feel nervous. Should I feel nervous? I think Circe is my favorite.  _

 

**DragonBoy:** _ Ok. So, this one is getting a little personal, but I'm really curious. Have you ever dated a guy before? _

 

**ManWhoLives:** _ Well….no. Until very recently I thought I was straight aside from the occasional man-crush. That being said, I have very little experience across the board. I very briefly dated 2 girls, have now kissed 2 girls and 1 guy, and entertained a crush on Cormac McLaggen until he opened his mouth. _

 

_ Does my answer affect how you look at me? I probably should have made you answer that before answering. Alas, here we are. _

 

**DragonBoy:** _ I maybe should have explained why I was asking. Most of the little hints and clues you give led me to believe you were straight. I just was curious. I apologise if I crossed a line. _

 

_ Since turnabout is fair play, I identify as bisexual, but I tend to find myself more romantically inclined towards men. I have dated both men and women, have kissed both, etc.  _

 

_ Since you did all the work for our last date, would you like to come to my place on Saturday? There is a beautiful lake about half a mile away & we could have a picnic? _

 

Harry grins at the idea of a picnic and readily agrees to the date. He feels a small surge of panic at the casual way Draco admitted to etc-ing with both genders. Draco is definitely out of his league when it comes to experience. Deciding to worry about that when the time comes, Harry allows himself to simply feel excited for tomorrow.

 

After going over plans for the next day and agreeing what time Harry should arrive, they decide it's time to call it a night. Harry bids the other goodnight and heads for his room. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter to help with some character (and relationship) development. I promise, only one more 'filler' chapter to go and then the story will finally be in prime plot placement for me to get on with all the exciting bits I have planned. Please be patient!

Saturday cannot come quickly enough. Harry is tossing and turning in his bed, unable to make that elusive connection with sleep. He is so excited to get a glimpse into the life of Draco Malfoy but he also feels guilty. Draco has been so patient with Harry, essentially dating ( _ are they even dating? This is dating, right? Harry really doesn’t know…) _ a stranger. And, not just a stranger, but a new stranger every day. It’s only a matter of time before Draco tires of the charade or, maybe, simply demands to know who Harry is. And, when he finds out, what will he do? 

 

Sometime in the early hours of morning, Harry Potter was finally overtaken with exhaustion. He awakens to a quiet alarm and sits up with a grin. No matter how nervous he is, he is not going to spend the day dwelling in the what-ifs. He cheerfully (and off-tune) whistles while he cleans his house. Kreacher brings him a small breakfast around 8 and then he gets ready for his date. For today, he casts a glamour over himself instead of using the ring. He masks all his scars and identifying-marks, changes his eyes to blue, and lengthens his hair enough that it can be put up in a messy man-bun. He checks himself out in a mirror and grins; this will the most he’s ever looked like himself in Draco’s presence. 

 

An hour later, Harry is standing dejectedly in front of his closet. He has tried on every article of clothing he owns and nothing is  _ right _ for the date. He wants to look nice and, ideally, take Draco’s breath away when he sees him. This is the first time ‘seeing’ Harry, so it needs to make an impression! He is a wizard, so if he could just figure out what he wanted to wear, magic could do the rest. The problem is that Harry just doesn’t know how he wants to look. He’s never tried to look good for someone or something before. Even for the Yule ball, Molly had picked his robes and he’d asked someone he didn’t care about because he  _ had _ to have a date. 

 

A blush spreads across Harry’s cheeks as he imagines if things had been different during the fourth year. Imagine he and Draco had gotten along then and the two of them had gone together. The would have looked quite nice together, Harry thinks. Filing away  _ those _ images for later, Harry summons his laptop. He remembers a website Petunia used to always show him as reference when he was cooking or decorating for parties. After bypassing a few login annoyances, Harry is freely browsing through different outfit suggestions. He slowly starts forming an outfit in his mind. Once he’s confident he has the whole look, he heads back to his own closet.

 

He may have successfully conjured a chair during his last lesson but transfiguration comes to him much more naturally. He pulls out a full outfit of his oldest and blandest clothes. After some creative spellwork he has created his outfit. Harry changes into it and turns the back of his door into a mirror. After admiring handiwork for a minute, Harry grins and heads for the living room floo. Today is going to be perfect! Harry is confident as he steps through the floo and announces “Chalet Cache”. He has changes the shape of his nose a bit, but kept his own beard and hair. He is confidently wearing his own skin and his outfit is going to make Draco double-take, he’s sure of it. After finding the right inspiration, Harry is outfitted in slightly faded black slim-fit jeans, a matte black unzipped leather jacket, grey henley shirt, and simple brown leather shoes. He is wearing a watch with a brown leather band to tie the whole thing together. 

“ _ Mission accomplished”  _ Harry thinks to himself as Draco’s brows lift into his hairline at seeing Harry. He grins as the blond an gives him a shy “Hey.”

 

Skipping the pleasantries, Draco skips right ahead in the conversation. “Please tell me this is the real you. You look delectable.”

 

Harry’s light blushing turns burning red at the words. “Almost. I just have a light glamour, but the body, hair, and beard are mine.”

 

“Damn. Turn around, I gotta see.” 

 

Harry snaps out of his blushing schoolboy act and scoffs at Draco. “Yeah, right!” He smacks draco on the arm before turning the other boy towards the kitchen. “How about you wine n’ dine me first there, loverboy.” Draco hip checks him and Harry almost trips over his own feet. They proceed to each try and beat the other into the kitchen in a fit of laughter. 

 

Once in the kitchen, he discovers that Draco already has the picnic packed up and ready to go. It’s now Draco’s turn to blush as he admits he couldn’t sleep so he got started early on everything.”I wasn’t nervous or anything. I mean, look at me! But, y’know. I wanted it to be perfect for you. Gotta win you over enough that you’ll let me see your face one of these days!”

Draco blushes. Harry grins. And the two of them leave the small cottage together.

 

They follow a wooded trail that winds leisurely through the hills. The lake is a two mile hike from Draco’s place and the journey is absolutely breathtaking. As they hop over a little stream, Harry voices his thoughts. “This is nothing like the Dark Forest. I can’t believe how beautiful it is out here.” 

 

Draco laughs at him, “of course it’s not! I would never be able to live anywhere near a place like that.”

 

Harry smiles, loving this lighthearted version of Draco. He knows that Draco Malfoy has lived through just as many horrors as he has. Harry is very aware that there is a sadness underneath the bright surface. But Draco has done what Harry is still trying to do; moved on. Harry asks Draco to tell him about his favorite places he’s ever visited. Their adventure continues to the narration of Draco’s happiest memories with his family. The trail opens up into a lakeside meadow before they even realize it. With a fond look, they settle down in the grass under a weeping willow as the Slytherin continues to entertain Harry with tales of cities afar and the exaggerated adventures of a childish spirit. 

 

After their food was gone and the stories had reached their end, the two boys laid back on the grass. They lay in silence for a while, both dozing in and out of consciousness. It was almost an hour later when Harry sits up suddenly, startling Draco awake. “Draco! Let’s go for a swim?”

 

Blinking at him slowly with an incredulous look in his eyes, Draco bites back a smile. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

 

“It is!” Without waiting for a response, Harry starts jogging towards the water’s edge. By the time he reaches the shore, Harry is down to just his boxers. He can hear Draco laughing in the distance but Harry doesn't wait up. The water is up to his waist by the time pale hands wrap around his shoulders. As Harry turns to grin at the blond, those slender hands suddenly pull him under the water. Spluttering, Harry resurfaces to a pesky Slytherin laughing his ass off. War has been waged and revenge is imminent. The two of them playfully swim, wrestle, laugh and chat until the sun goes down. 

 

Their daytime date spills over into the evening as they trek down to a cute little cafe in the town. They bump shoulders as they walk along the cobblestone and at one point Harry grabs Draco’s hand. He feels him tense for a second and worries that he’s reading things wrongly. “This OK?” Harry whispers. 

 

Draco nods enthusiastically. “You just surprised me. This is nice. I’ve had a wonderful day.”

 

“Me too.” Harry agrees. “Shall we?” He asks as he swings the door open. They bask in the smell of roasting garlic and gentle warmth wafting out of the cafe. Stepping into the cozy building, Harry tugs on Draco’s hand to lead him towards a corner booth. They settle into the red leather and sit with their shoulders touching. The rest of the evening passes in a blissful blur of the greatest happiness Harry has ever experienced. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm never quite sure I'm going about things the best way possible. I'm always open to feedback!


End file.
